


He asked for you

by Erule



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mention of alcohol, a bit of sexual tension, death anniversary, drunk!Dean, fluff at the end, mention of Mary Winchester’s death, mention of an angry Dean, romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:29:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28558368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erule/pseuds/Erule
Summary: Dean is drunk and he calls the reader to pick him up.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	He asked for you

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: drunk!Dean, mention of alcohol, mention of Mary Winchester’s death, mention of an angry Dean, death anniversary, a bit of sexual tension, angst, romantic, fluff at the end.
> 
> A/N: Hello hello! This fic participates to Julia’s (aka Superbadassnatural on Tumblr) challenge, "333 followers celebration". Thank you Julia for the opportunity and congrats again for your goal! I chose prompt #5, You said you needed me, so I’m here, that you can find marked in bold inside the story. I had so much fun writing it! 
> 
> I suggest you to listen to Shut up by Greyson Chance while reading, if you want. 
> 
> This time I used different speech marks, I hope they make the experience better!
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr and Wattpad. Feedback is always appreciated by a writer! Enjoy!

She woke up in the middle of the night. Her phone kept ringing, like there was a earthquake. She rubbed her eyes, sitting up on the bed. She picked up the phone and the screen blinded her with its light. A picture of Dean appeared in front of her.   
"Dean?" she asked, still sleepy.   
"No Y/N, I'm Francis. Look, Dean is here at the pub with me. He's very much drunk, but I have to close now and I can't take him home. Could you come get him?"   
"Couldn't you have called Sam?”  
"He asked specifically for you. I’m sorry," Francis tried to justify himself.   
"No problem," Y/N replied. Then she heard a muffled voice in the background scream something. "What’s happening?"   
"Francis, is it Y/N? Tell her that I need her! Please!" Dean yelled in a slurred voice. He was dead drunk. She snorted. “Did you hear that?” Francis asked.  
“Unfortunately, yes”.  
“Did you two have a fight about something? Because you seem pretty annoyed at him”.  
She sighed.  
“I’m always annoyed at him. See you in twenty minutes, Francis”.  
She hanged up the phone, then she dressed up and took her car to rescue Dean. To rescue Dean from himself, actually. They hadn’t talked for hours and now he specifically asked for her to come pick him up? In the middle of the night? That was definitely a nightmare.  
She arrived at the pub and knocked on the gate velve of it, so Francis could let her in, since he had closed the place. They were lucky that he was their friend, otherwise no one would have helped Dean like that.   
“Y/N!” he called with a smile, letting her in.  
“Hi, Francis. I’m sorry about Dean. I hope he didn’t sang at the karaoke tonight.”  
“Nah, he was just sad, I suppose,” he replied. She shrugged, without saying a word, even if Francis glanced at her twice.   
Francis brought her to Dean, that was sleeping with his head in his arms, on the counter of the pub. She tried to wake him up, while Francis disappeared somewhere. At first, she squeezed his shoulders, but since he didn’t give her a sign of response, she sat down next to him, tired. She gently caressed his hair, inhaling his scent, even if the smell of alcohol tried to cover it. He seemed harmless, innocent and most of all, quiet. He was the opposite of the man she saw earlier.   
He mumbled something, then he raised his head and looked at her with absent, almost dreamy eyes. He struggled to recognize her, she could tell it. It was a funny moment that made her smile, but she refrained from showing it to him.  
“Baby? Did you turn out to be a woman or am I still dreaming?”  
She squeezed his arm.  
“You’re very much awake, Dean and it’s Y/N.”  
His eyes got suddenly shiny.  
“Sweetheart, you’re here!” he almost yelled, excited.  
“You said you needed me, so I’m here,” she replied, but she didn’t let Dean touch her.  
Dean looked at her as if she had just hurt him and maybe it really was, but she couldn't tell. He tried to get up, but stumbled, so she had to hold him in order to avoid his fall on the ground. Francis went back to them, greeted them and then opened the back door to let them out.   
"Did you see, Francis? I told you she would have come! She always comes when I need her," Dean said. Y/N felt a sharp pain in her chest at those words.   
"I had no doubts, Dean," Francis replied, winking at her.  
While she was taking him to the car, Dean's grip was getting tighter and tighter around her hips. Maybe he didn't even realize it was, but she didn't mind, after what had happened between them a few hours ago.  
“Look, I’m really sorry to tell you, because you’re a very beautiful chick, but I’ve got a girlfriend home, so could you please get me a ride?” he said and she laughed.  
“Dean, again, it’s Y/N.”  
“Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry! I’m too drunk tonight,” he replied.  
“That’s okay, Dean. Just tell me where you put your keys.”  
“No, listen, we have to talk,” he said, trying to look at her in the eyes, his hands on her shoulders.  
“Dean, you’re drunk and I wanna go home. Give me keys of the Impala, so you’re not gonna be mad at me for letting it here tomorrow,” she said, tired.  
“Her. It’s her. Anyway, baby, please, let’s talk. I can’t stand another day of you not talking to me,” he said and he looked a lot like a puppy in that moment, with his glossy eyes, his scruffy beard and his ruffled hair.  
“Dean, what do you want me to say?” she asked, slipping a hand into his jacket, but Dean noticed it and squeezed it gently between his.  
“Naughty,” he said, winking at her. “Just say that you’re not angry at me anymore. I was so sad tonight.”  
“You were sad? You’re the one who yelled at me because I tried to help you! You don’t get to be mad at me, I do,” she said, almost out of patience. She ran a hand through her hair, nervous. “Look Dean, we can't have this talk right now. It's three in the morning, you're drunk and I'm tired. Can you give me the keys please so we can go home? I promise you we'll talk about it again tomorrow."   
Dean sighed.   
"Tomorrow will be too late."   
Y/N looked at him.   
"Why?"   
“Because I know you, before tomorrow morning you will have already changed your mind and you will avoid me for breakfast. Then I'll pretend nothing has happened, I’ll work on a case with Sam and for at least two more days we won't even look at each other.”   
"Dean..." Y/N tried to say, but he raised his hand to cut her off.  
“I wasn’t kidding, when I said I needed you,” Dean said seriously, looking in her eyes. Her heart dropped into her stomach. That statement made her feel weak in the knees.  
“You never said that,” she replied, her voice so low, it barely sounded like a sigh.  
“No? Well, I’m telling you now,” Dean said, putting the keys into her hands.  
He gave her a smile, before settling into the back seat of the Impala. Y/N squeezed the keys in her hand, like she wanted to make sure that the moment she just experienced was real. A gust of wind woke her up, so she closed Dean’s door and then she got in the car. She looked at Dean who was already asleep with his arms crossed through the rearview mirror and smiled.  
When they arrived to the bunker, she basically carried Dean on herself, who was holding onto her for dear life. She was aware of his weight, but also of his smell of alcohol, too strong for her taste and of his warmth against her body.  
She made him sit on his bed after closing the door behind her, not wanting to wake Sam up. She pulled off his boots while Dean was staring at her. His gaze made her feel nervous, as if he was judging or studying her. Then, she touched his arms, taking off his jacket slowly. Dean’s gaze seemed infinitely filled with something that looked like atavistic lust, as if he had never touched a woman in his life or better, as if he had never touched her.  
She swallowed softly, before asking him: “Do you want me to take off your shirt too?”  
Dean shook his head, then he brushed her jawline with his fingertips.  
“Thank you.”  
Y/N nodded, feeling her skin burning up because of his touch.  
“No problem.”  
Y/N got to her feet, but before she could get away from him, Dean grabbed her wrist.  
“Could you stay here? At least until I fall asleep. Please,” he asked and something in his tone of voice made her think that he had come back to being himself again, somehow. She nodded again.  
So, she lay down next to Dean, watching him while he was closing his eyes and his chest went up and down, breathing softly. He reached for her hand, but he didn’t squeeze it. He just just brushed it, as if that alone was useful to calm him down. She stroked the hair on his forehead and felt him relax under her touch as he drifted off to sleep. She knew it from his breathing that was now heavier. And then, she fell asleep too.

***

The next morning, Dean wasn't in bed when she woke up. She sighed, then got up and went to take a shower in her room to clear her head. She quickly changed and went to the kitchen, where she found Sam having breakfast.   
"Hey," she greeted him.   
"Good morning," Sam replied with a smile. "You two stayed up late tonight, huh?"   
She shrugged.   
“I went to get Dean from the pub in the middle of the night. He was dead drunk," she explained, while pouring some coffee into the cup.   
"Oh, I’m sorry."   
“He didn't tell you anything? Where is he?"   
Sam took a deep breath before answering.   
"I think he went out to be alone for a while."   
Y/N bit her lip.  
“Oh.”  
“Listen Y/N, yesterday Dean went too far with you. He shouldn’t have, but everyone in his room knows him and he knows himself too: he’s that kind of person who bottles up everything until they blow up. He yelled at you only because he was sad about our Mom’s death anniversary. You know he would never hurt you on purpose”.   
"I know that Sam, but he can't even keep pushing me away thinking I'll always come back to him, because I'm afraid there will be a day I’ll stop doing it," she said.   
"You're right, that’s why I think you should talk to him about it."  
Dean and Y/N weren't used to talking much. Often, she spoke and he listened to her. Dean would rather show her how he felt about her with her with small gestures and almost always it was fine with her. It mattered to her that he cared about her, that was all. That was his way of showing it. She didn’t want to give him pressure about the matter, but she couldn't hide the fact that she would have liked to hear it said sometimes, maybe after they had argued, like this time, because when he got angry, she then had a hard time washing his words away from herself.   
The door opened. The noise echoed all over the walls of the bunker. Y/N leaned out of the kitchen door to watch Dean go down the stairs, throwing a bunch of keys in the air and catching it each time. When he got closer, he stopped in the middle of the hallway, because he had seen her. Meanwhile, Sam slipped away behind her.  
“Hey,” said Dean.  
“Hey,” Y/N replied.  
“I brought your car back,” he said, before coming closer to her in order to give her the keys. He brushed her fingers and she felt and electric discharge burn her fingertips.  
“Thanks.”  
Dean nodded, clenching his jaw. He looked around embarrassed, not knowing what to say, then gave her a shy smile and walked past her.   
"Who’s running away now?" she asked, turning around. Dean stopped but didn't turn to look at her. “Yesterday you said it was going to be too late to talk this morning, but I'm here and you're running away. Why?" she asked him, but again, Dean didn't answer her. So, she approached him. She caressed his shoulders, then slipped her hands along his arms and finally, she hugged him. At first Dean seemed stiff, but then he relaxed under her touch, just like he had done the night before. “You said you needed me. Was it a lie?” she asked.  
Dean shook his head imperceptibly, but then he remembered that she couldn’t see him because her cheek was pressed against his back, so he hastened to add: “No.”  
She closed her eyes, tightening her grip more.  
“I know that it’s hard for you to talk about feelings. I can do it for both of us, especially in days like yesterday. It’s okay. I’m here for you, Dean. You don’t have to be strong all the time, not around me anyway,” she said.   
She heard Dean skip a breath, as if he was holding back a sob in his throat. He took her hands, gently loosening her hold on him, then he turned to face her.   
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you,” Dean said, still holding her hands in his ones. “I just want you to know that you are one of the few people I like to be around and every time I look at you, it’s like you’re the only one standing in a room.”  
Y/N bit her bottom lip, giving him a slight yet sweet smile, holding back the tears.  
“I love you.”  
Dean kissed the back of her hand and then, he hugged her.


End file.
